HOUSE OF GREEN
In this little haven exists a different people. They speak words we don’t understand and bear emotions we can’t feel. They are those who remain at the end of the night – who pay no heed to the final call. Chained to earth, yet still dream – like sailors do of landfall. Some tower, titan-like, overhead, while others cower in fear as we tread. Some glower, primed with poison, while others invite, arms open. In this house, they all grow free, though overseen – careful catastrophe. Roaming their halls with unabashed glee – I confide in them and they confide in me. x
